


candlelight dinner

by renyoi



Series: klance valentine's week 2021 [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Date Night, Dinner Date, Eventual Smut, M/M, Nice Clothes Are Distracting, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29323845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renyoi/pseuds/renyoi
Summary: Keith wears an especially well-fitting suit to a fancy date Lance roped him into. Lance did not realize how utterlydistractingKeith Kogane in a suit could be; there's nowayhe's surviving this date.note:chapter 1 is sfw (not smut) and chapter 2 is pretty much all smut. decide how far you want to read!
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: klance valentine's week 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152308
Comments: 5
Kudos: 126





	1. sfw

Usually, and contrary to popular belief, Lance and Keith are very prone to low-key dates. Well, scratch that. Contrary to  _ Lance’s  _ belief. Because Lance had always imagined himself going on extravagant, classy,  _ expensive  _ dates—five star restaurants, couples’ massages, glitzy dinner parties or theatre—but that is certainly not what they do. In fact, that may be the polar opposite of what they do, which nine times out of ten is Lance letting himself into Keith’s apartment, groaning until one of them orders a pizza, watching some stupid bullshit reality TV that they eventually get bored of, fucking (or at least fooling around), showering, and then sleeping. Sometimes they mix it up by replacing reality TV with video games, but the rest is basically the same. 

But like, Lance is weirdly okay with this. He’s found (shockingly to others and himself) that he’s game to do pretty much anything as long as he gets to do it with Keith. Which is gross, and embarrassing, and about one hundred other cringe things Lance doesn’t want to think about. 

However, Lance is reminded of his previous disposition one sunny Thursday morning, when he’s having brunch with Hunk at a quaint outside parlour downtown. 

They’re chatting, as always, and Lance offhandedly mentions beating Keith at one race in Mario Kart last night, describing it as “the best fucking date I’ve ever had” because of it. 

Hunk laughs, at first, and starts asking about the rest of Lance’s dates. “If that’s your best, Keith must set a pretty low standard,” he quips.

However much Lance likes to rag on Keith, though, he never wants it to seem like he’s not a good boyfriend, because he  _ is _ . So, he explains to Hunk that this is normal for them, they usually just chill at home by way of dates and it’s whatever, Lance likes it, but Hunk gets a weird expression on his face that eventually has Lance pausing self-consciously.

“What?” he asks, taking a mildly indignant sip of his iced orange juice. “What’s with that face?” 

“Oh, sorry, Lance, it’s nothing, just—“ Hunk pauses to clear his throat, which just makes Lance more suspicious. “Well…”

“Oh my god, Hunk,  _ what _ !” Lance stresses. “Just tell me! I have no idea what’s going on!” 

After a few more seconds of Lance pouting, Hunk finally sighs and, with a roll of his eyes, says, “Geez, Lance, it’s nothing. I’m just surprised that all your dates are like that, that’s all.”

Lance is taken aback. “What—Why? What do you and Shay do?” 

“Uh, go out to dinner? Go to the movies? We usually just try to make an event out of it. So it’s different from just ‘hanging out’,” Hunk explains, clearly holding back laughter. Lance, of course, understands the type of date Hunk is talking about, but—well, that isn’t  _ necessary _ for a good relationship, right? 

“Why do you have to make an event out of it?” Lance asks instead. 

Hunk just shrugs. “I don’t know. I feel like dates are supposed to be a celebration of love, so going out and doing something feels more like a celebration than just staying home.” 

Huh. Lance is silent for a moment, nodding. Yeah, that...actually makes sense, and Lance is slowly being filled with a renewed impression that what he and Keith are doing is highly inadequate. 

“Yeah,” he responds to Hunk. His voice is far-off sounding. “Maybe you’re right.”

* * *

The moment Lance says farewell to Hunk, he whips his phone out and sends Keith a text. 

**lance (12:42PM): keith let’s go on a date!!**

**keith (12:43PM): what**

**keith (12:43PM): we’ve been dating for 2 years?**

Lance groans out loud to himself and begins texting rapidly. Keith is so slow sometimes. 

* * *

About two weeks later, Lance is checking how he looks in the mirror, twisting from side to side in an effort to catch every angle. It’s Valentine’s Day—they’d picked today to try going on a  _ real  _ date because, hello, what better day to “celebrate their love” than on Valentine’s Day? That had been Lance’s argument, anyway, and Keith had gone along with it because he didn’t have any better ideas and also probably because he was still bemused at the whole situation. Whatever, Lance is taking it! He’s even donned a dress shirt with pink hearts all over it. He thinks he looks pretty smashing, honestly. 

Lance grins, treating himself to a last twirl before he scampers out into the living room to await Keith’s arrival. He’s excited, but also a little lost and nervous; even though he’s always talked big about wanting to be spoiled all the time, he and Keith had never _ really  _ had that type of relationship. Thinking about it now, Lance is mystified at how easily pleased he was just to be in Keith’s company, content to stay cuddled on the couch rather than have a spa treatment. It’s... _ weird _ , and not like him, but then again, Lance and Keith’s relationship had started completely by accident anyway, so perhaps Lance just needs to accept that some of his preconceptions are going to be broken. 

But, apparently, not tonight. Lance is drawn from his thoughts by the sound of his doorbell, and he nearly vaults over his coffee table in his enthusiasm to get this started and live out his teenage fantasies of classy dating. 

He lands rather splendidly at his door handle and opens it with a flourish, pickup-line at his lips ( _ “Well, here I am! What were your other two wishes?” _ ), but the moment his eyes land on Keith all other thoughts and words vanish, to be replaced by a single, all-consuming feeling of  _ holy fucking shit.  _

Keith is just standing there at the door, looking somewhat puzzled at Lance’s sudden change of expression, but also he  _ isn’t  _ just standing there, because how could Keith Kogane just standing at his doorstep make Lance’s breath catch and his steps fall off-kilter so? But, god, Keith, he—

He’s wearing a  _ suit.  _

Lance has never seen Keith in a suit before. Actually, he’s pretty much never seen Keith in anything classier than a red flannel, let alone—let alone  _ this,  _ this whole-ass penguin suit that seems tailored specifically to Keith’s measurements, hugging his thighs and draping over his chest in  _ exactly  _ the right way that has Lance’s mouth going dry. Keith’s got the top button of his white shirt undone, too, so Lance can  _ just  _ see those sharp collar bones he adores so, and even without that the hint of casualness amidst the overwhelmingly meticulous,  _ exact  _ look of the outfit has Lance’s fingers itching with the desire to tear the whole thing off of him. 

“Um...Lance?”

Lance snaps himself back to attention, guiltily registering that he’d zoned out for a good thirty seconds there. 

“Hi, hello, Keith, darling! Hi! Um, you look—wow, you look stunning, I’m--Did you own a suit?” It’s been a minute since Lance has felt this flustered around Keith, but damn, he’s got his hands in his pockets, sweeping the jacket back in such a modelesque way that Lance is finding it hard to get any words out at all, nevermind  _ coherent  _ ones. 

Keith, completely oblivious to Lance’s internal struggles, takes his hands out of his pockets ( _ Nooooo,  _ Lance thinks despairingly) and folds them across his chest, cheeks tinting pink. “I, um, no, I didn’t.”

“So you bought this just for today?” Lance feels his heart pang distantly. 

“Um.” Keith looks away. “Y-Yeah, I guess. I went to the department store and asked for the best one, so--” 

“Wait.” Lance leans forward, suddenly registering a new, fresh-spicy scent wafting in his direction. Keith leans back as Lance surges forward. “Are...Are you wearing  _ cologne _ ?” 

“I’ve worn cologne before!” Keith snaps, sounding frustrated. “Just—Just not this brand—” 

“Oh, god,” Lance murmurs to himself, already feeling a little punch-drunk from the beautifully sharp aroma that he knows is coating Keith’s wrists and neck. His neck, which is framed perfectly by the collar of his jacket, smooth and white and inviting…

Lance briefly considers calling the whole date off and just pulling Keith in and jumping him where he stands, but he (heroically) resists. They’d  _ planned  _ this. It’s to celebrate their love, not for Lance to dissolve into heated lust. He should settle down, and  _ fast.  _

“I feel a little underdressed, now,” Lance says by way of explanation for his behavior, offering a nervous laugh. Keith raises an eyebrow. 

“You look good,” he responds simply, and Lance can see from the way Keith is looking at him that it’s true. It’s quite telling about his emotional state, then, when the compliment doesn’t even begin to refocus his attention away from Keith in that tight,  _ tight  _ suit. 

“Thanks,” he responds distantly. 

They stare at each other. 

“Um. Are we going?” Keith finally says, taking a step back and eyeing Lance suspiciously. “The car’s still running…” 

“Oh!” Lance nearly yelps, darting to grab his wallet. “Yes. Yes! We’re going. Let’s go.” 

This is definitely  _ not  _ the ideal start to their date, if Keith’s continuous concerned-yet-vaguely-irritated glances as he drives them to the restaurant are anything to go by. Lance, for his part, spends most of the drive completely silent, alternating between pressing his warm face against the window in a desperate attempt to cool his thoughts off, and completely undoing all of that work by gazing somewhat fervently at the image of hot, rakish Keith bathed in flashes of red, green, and yellow light.  _ Swoon.  _

Eventually, they arrive at the restaurant that Keith chose, and Lance is kind of surprised because it actually looks  _ super  _ elegant. Stylish. It’s some French place— _ La Vue Ancienne _ , it’s called, and based on his knowledge of Spanish and its similarities to French, Lance guesses it means something like ‘The Ancient View’—that Lance hadn’t known existed until this very second. 

“Wow,” he says, breaking the (only a little tense!) silence. Keith shoots him an irked look. “How’d you find out about this place, mullet? Google?” 

“No!” Keith defends himself righteously. “I mean—Well, yes, but that’s still valid!” 

Lance snickers, warmed at the fact that Keith seems to be trying so hard. That does, however, make him feel slightly guiltier about his eyes continuously being drawn to Keith’s figure instead of focusing on, like, everything else happening. God damnit. 

They make their way into the restaurant, and Lance decides to be grabby, drawing Keith close to him by the waist and definitely not trailing his hand farther down teasingly at times. The fabric is very smooth, and it’s got a soft feel even though it’s apparently new; Keith must have spent a lot of money on it.  _ Well worth it,  _ Lance thinks before Keith forcefully tugs his hand higher up, blushing and smacking him.  _ Very well worth it.  _

A waitress with curly red hair appears at the front desk, smiling cheerfully and asking for a name. Keith tells her—”It’s under Kogane,” he says, and Lance still gets butterflies when he finds himself being associated with Keith’s last name—and she smiles brightly when she finds it and leads them to their table. The restaurant is full of other couples gazing dotingly into each others’ eyes; Lance notices Keith rolling his eyes as they pass them. 

“Aw, come on, gaze into my eyes,” Lance teases, fluttering his eyes in Keith’s direction and earning his second smack of the night in response. 

The waitress gestures towards their table and bows away immediately, leaving Lance to get shoved to the side when he tries to (not at all sarcastically, what?) pull out a chair for him. 

“Fuck off,” Keith says, and Lance laughs, because despite his words, Keith was smiling while he said it. 

With Keith sitting down and Lance across from him, the suit is less distracting, but only marginally so. Lance can still see that  _ collar _ and oh, now Keith is pushing his sleeves up which helps  _ so  _ much, and even his hair looks good right now (though it usually does, Lance has always thought that, but he’ll face god and walk backwards into hell before he tells Keith). 

Lance can still smell the spiced scent of his new cologne and it’s driving him insane. What scent is it? Liquid Lust? Diluted Desire? Aqua Aphrodisia? Erotic Elixir? 

Or, or fucking—Bottled Sex? Did Keith just bottle sex appeal and throw it on himself?? Lance is losing his mind a little bit here. A lot a little bit. A  _ lot a lot  _ a little bit. 

“ _ Lance _ ?!” 

Lance snaps to attention at the sound of his name, sharp as a whip crack. He meets Keith’s eyes guiltily, and tries not to think about how hot and delicious Keith looks when he’s annoyed. 

“Yes, baby?” he tries, and is rewarded when Keith’s face contorts oddly and his cheeks redden. It’s cute, not only because Keith  _ always  _ seems to react that way to nicknames, but because that particular one might normally only be used during, um, special circumstances. Nearly-breaking-the-bed type of special circumstances. 

So, yeah, maybe Keith’s blush is understandable. Even Lance is regretting that comment, because now there are images in his head, images of Lance pressing Keith down into a mattress (or a counter, or a wall, or the floor…) and feeling the smooth silk of his suit against the palm of his hand as he touches--

“What the fuck are you thinking about?” Keith cuts through Lance’s inner monologue again, but his tone has less bite, which tells Lance that perhaps he wasn’t the only one having rather explicit thoughts just then. 

He throws Keith a not-altogether innocent grin. “Oh, nothing. Just about how soft your bed is.”

“You’re so annoying,” Keith mumbles, fidgeting in his seat. Lance leans forward and caresses Keith’s leg with his foot. He gets kicked. He expected that. 

“I asked you earlier,” Keith continues, opening his menu back up as if nothing happened, “what you were thinking of eating.” 

Lance, in a truly inspiring show of bravery and self-control (in his opinion, shut up), resists replying with, “you, of course” and promptly opens his menu, giving himself a welcome(?) shield from Keith’s newfound hotness. 

The rest of the dinner continues much in this same way—Lance stares at Keith with clearly desirous thirst, Keith responds with thinly veiled annoyance, it goes on. 

It goes on, in fact, until they’re given desert, and Keith looks like he’s about to break the tiny fork he’s holding to eat the chocolate cake that was just placed in front of him. 

“What is your  _ problem _ ?” he hisses as soon as the waitress disappears again, pulling Lance out of yet another fantasy-slash-reverie. “You’ve been acting weird all night, on this date that  _ you  _ wanted to go on, and I’m sick of trying to do something that you’re clearly not interested in.”

Okay—ouch.  _ Ouch.  _ Finally, Lance feels the full weight of guilt wash over him, and he sets down his ice cream spoon, sighing and giving Keith an apologetic look. Keith’s face, though still clearly angry, softens a little. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance says, hanging his head remorsefully. “I haven’t been a good date tonight. I’ve been— _ distracted _ , okay? Just distracted.” 

“Distracted by what? Is something wrong?” Keith presses, clearly concerned. 

Lance clears his throat. He doesn’t  _ exactly  _ want to admit that seeing Keith all dressed up and suave, sitting across from him lit by the dancing flame of a candle and the glow of his eyes, has disoriented him, like, to  _ this  _ extent. It feels crazy, and maybe a little obsessive, to fully come clean. 

But, also, Lance still wants Keith to know that he’s done nothing wrong, that it’s not their  _ relationship,  _ or anything. Quite the opposite: Lance is so enchanted by Keith (still, after months and months) that just seeing him in a nice outfit can throw him off his game within seconds. 

Well. It’s always better to tell the truth, right?

“You’re  _ hot _ ,” Lance blurts out, louder than he expected to be; he gets a few weird, mildly annoyed looks from the tables beside him, but the look he  _ really  _ cares about—the one from Keith—is far from either of those. Keith’s eyes widen and he looks around himself, as if searching for a response to give, and then he folds his arms and glares. Lance takes that as his cue to keep going.

“Just—your  _ outfit _ , your cologne, your stupid hair, how hard you’re trying—you’re  _ distracting _ , Keith. I can’t think about anything else but you.” 

Keith’s quiet for a moment, red splashing across his cheeks and nose, which makes it that much harder for Lance to focus. Finally, though, Lance feels Keith’s shoe tap his ankle, then slide suggestively upward; just that simple motion has a short, warm shiver flowing through Lance’s body, which definitely says something about how keyed up he is right now. Keith notices and a grin curls his mouth; he gives Lance a look through heavy eyelashes, then, and says quietly, “You should’ve just told me. We can get out of here, if you want.” 

Lance squirms. God, he  _ really  _ wants to take Keith up on that offer—more than anything in the  _ world _ , frankly—but, like, wasn’t this supposed to be the big, romantic, classic date where they indulged in all the cheesy shit couples do in the movies? Trade love notes, buy roses, whatever? Should they really just abandon that because Lance can’t get over how sexy Keith is? 

...Another glance at Keith, and the look he’s giving him, has Lance making up his mind. 

“Yeah, yes,  _ yeah _ .” Lance stands up quickly, rummaging around his (uncomfortably tight pants,  _ oh no _ ) pockets for his wallet. “Let’s go, pretty boy.” 

Some romantic dates are better had in the comfort of your own home, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! [buy me a ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/renyoi) if u want :3
> 
> [follow my klance tumblr!](https://klancey.tumblr.com/)
> 
> reminder that chapter 2 is **nsfw**!


	2. nsfw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the smut part lol

He’s treated to a wonderfully embarrassed laugh from Keith before he, too, is standing and dropping cash onto their tab, and within five minutes they’ve made their way back into the car. This time, Lance is unabashed about his touches, snagging Keith by the collar once they’re both seated and pulling him in for a slow, promising kiss, something he’s been  _ dying  _ to do all night. When Lance lets go, Keith comes back looking a little dazed, and then he’s suddenly surging forward again, nearly climbing into Keith’s lap, and before Lance knows it they’re making out in the passenger seat of the car in front of the fancy French restaurant. 

The  _ class  _ their relationship has. The elegance. Lance wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

“As much as I love this,” Lance mumbles into Keith’s mouth, “I think the rich people in there are gonna call the cops if we keep it up.” 

Keith whines a little—a sound that goes  _ straight  _ to Lance’s dick--but consents and pries himself away, settling back into the driver's seat looking deliciously ruffled. 

Lance reaches over and pinches Keith’s thigh, through the silk fabric of his dress pants. “Drive fast, though.” 

They get back home in ten minutes. 

As they make their way back up to Keith’s apartment, kissing and giggling, Lance takes a moment to realize just how  _ into  _ Keith he is. Like, he’s fully enraptured by the guy, and right now, love for him is filling every part of his being; everything is attuned to Keith, Keith,  _ Keith _ , in a way he’s never been able to be for another person. 

The feeling almost overwhelms him, it’s so sudden and strong, but Keith’s solid form clutching onto his shirt and Keith’s lips clumsily capturing his over and over, grounds him. While Keith fumbles with the keys, Lance breathes, “God, I’m in love with you.” 

Keith smiles—a bright, true,  _ blinding  _ smile, kiss-drunk and softened at the edges, touching in its radiance. He gets the keys in and immediately pulls Lance inside, nearly toppling them both over with the force with which he does it, and murmurs back fervently, “Me too. Me too, Lance, I  _ love  _ you.” 

And Lance believes it. Maybe that’s the most damning thing in all of this—right now, Lance doesn’t doubt for a second that what Keith is saying is true. 

“Bed, bed,  _ bed _ ,” Lance whispers urgently, kissing Keith quickly once more and then marching forward, pulling Keith along and pushing him down onto the bed the moment they’re in the room. He climbs on top of him, cupping his hands and pressing his lips and tongue onto Keith’s neck, kissing the skin framed by the collar of his white shirt like he’s wanted to do all night. 

Unable to help himself, Lance sucks and bites a hickey into the space, listening closely for any protest from Keith and hearing none, only the high-pitched hitch of his breath and the series of pretty, choked moans that follow. He leans back and admires his work, pleased with the contrast of dark red-mottled-purple on the paleness of Keith’s skin, the ruffled fabric around his throat speaking to debauchery and ruined clothes. 

Lance swipes his tongue across his lips.  _ Yes.  _ He can get behind that. 

“Pretty boy,” he murmurs, then, showering Keith’s throat with more kisses, and then moving up to his face, nipping at his ear, all the while thumbing expertly at the buttons on Keith’s pants, and then the zipper. Keith squirms underneath him, seemingly too caught up in the intensity of Lance’s lavished attention to say anything, but his skin is red and, from what Lance is feeling, his body is  _ definitely  _ responding well to the sensations. 

Good. Lance really likes the feeling of Keith’s dick straining against his fancy, expensive dress pants, compromising the integrity of the outfit and making Keith all the hotter for it.  _ Yes.  _

“So hot,” Lance continues praising, voice hushed. Keith throws a hand over his eyes, embarrassed, and it makes Lance laugh; he reaches forward and gently removes it, pressing a kiss to Keith’s palm as he does. 

Keith gives him a playful glare. “You’re unfair. And also hot.” 

“Aw, babe, you think I’m hot?” Lance teases, arching his eyebrows. “That’s so embarrassing for you.” 

Keith rolls over, very purposefully denying Lance access to his person, and Lance lets out a cry of protest. “Hey! Kidding,  _ kidding,  _ c’mon, Keith, I  _ want  _ you.” 

Lance hears a sigh and then Keith’s back, still giving him that lighthearted glare. “Watch your words, then.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

And then Lance is back to pulling and tugging at Keith’s clothes, running his hands over the soft fabric, appreciating how it accentuates the curves and slopes of Keith’s body, rounding out his ass and pulling taut around his chest as he twists and turns under Lance’s touch. He’s  _ gorgeous.  _ He’s the most gorgeous person Lance has ever seen, and he’s suddenly seized with the  _ need  _ to go further, to take this the next step and really  _ feel  _ Keith through those expensive clothes. 

“I wanna fuck you,” Lance murmurs into Keith’s ear, laying over him and grinding slowly into Keith’s pelvis, trying to get him to feel how turned on he’s got him. “Can I?” 

“ _ Fuck _ , you’re hard,” Keith pants, his hips already stuttering upward in tiny, aborted movements that he’s clearly not doing on purpose. 

“So are you,” Lance points out, smiling. “So…” 

“ _ Yes _ .” Keith scrambles into sitting position, hands at his pants. “It’s been yes the whole time, idiot.” 

“It’s better to be sure!” Lance protests, but he’s already making quick work of his clothes, throwing his pants and shirt unceremoniously (sorry, pretty pink heart shirt, but you  _ won’t  _ be missed) aside along with his underwear, leaving himself fully naked and bathed in the moonlight. 

Keith falters for a moment, staring, and then starts going faster, hands flying to his jacket next. Lance catches him before he can take it off, though. 

“...Leave this on, yeah?” he asks, giving Keith a meaningful look. Keith slowly raises an eyebrow at him and then grins, huffing out a laugh and releasing the fabric from his hand. 

He lays back down on the bed and spreads his legs. Lance’s dick gives a painful twinge— _ right, yeah, that’s where I belong.  _

Leaning forward and over Keith, Lance hastily grabs the lube on the nightstand, uncapping it quickly and coating his fingers. Keith hums beneath him, looking  _ achingly  _ beautiful, and Lance gives him a slow, indulgent kiss as he slips his fingers inside. Keith moans into his mouth, the sound quieted by the kiss, and Lance is  _ very  _ pleased to discover that he’s opening up very nicely—he must have prepared before the date, then. Of course he did. 

“Feel good?” Lance asks, twisting his fingers around. Keith nods fervently, hot and red, and pushes forward onto Lance’s fingers. Lance gives a sharp intake of breath; alright,  _ needy.  _ “I’ll do more, then.” 

He adds a third finger, plying Keith open gently, and Keith gasps and then melts into him, his entire body oriented towards that singular point. He’s so  _ pretty _ , gasping against the sheets in his jacket and white dress shirt; Lance fists some of the fabric into his hand and hauls Keith up for a moment, tonguing his mouth open and delving into his mouth as he retracts his fingers and, fumbling, grabs his dick. 

“Ready?” Lance says, positioning himself squarely in between Keith’s legs. 

“Have been for hours now,  _ yes _ ,” Keith replies, earning himself a laugh from Lance. 

The light emotion doesn’t last long, however; Lance pushes in and they both groan— _ yes.  _ Perfect. Lance sinks halfway into Keith just with that first thrust, and it feels fucking  _ fantastic,  _ just like having Keith wrapped all around him always does; he’s tight and hot and clenches in just the right way, giving Lance all the sensation he ever needs. 

“So good,” Lance says softly, pressing his forehead against Keith’s as he starts to pump into him, slow and steady. “ _ Cariño _ .” 

“ _ Lance _ ,” Keith breathes, looping his arms around Lance’s neck and pulling him close. “ _ Lance, more, more, more _ .” 

Who is Lance to deny such a sweet request? He pushes in further, bottoming Keith out, watching as he’s swallowed whole, and  _ wwooooooowww _ , utter fucking bliss. Lance is  _ so  _ lucky. 

He’s moving against Keith, now, hands hovering near his head as he slowly fucks into him, their mixed breath and tiny noises intermingling to the point where Lance isn’t sure which is his and which is Keith’s, and that’s  _ perfect _ , it’s so perfect to be with someone so completely and wholly and  _ comfortably.  _

Their foreheads bump together at one point within Lance’s movements, and they both dissolve into breathless, heated giggles, and Keith pulls Lance down for another sloppy kiss that has them both smiling dopily at each other after. Lance keeps moving, keeps pushing in and against Keith’s prostate, tugging at his shirt and kissing his neck and stomach, tiny pecks against the burning skin, salty in taste. Keith moans loudly, legs grappling for leverage around Lance’s waist, and Lance takes that as his cue to start fucking Keith in earnest, speeding up and revelling in the slap of skin against skin, of the ease at which his slicked-up cock slides in and out of Keith, flush against his walls and hitting his prostate nearly every time. 

“Lance,” Keith starts chanting, voice choked and nearly delirious with thrilled arousal, “ _ Lance, Lance, Lance, Lance _ \--” 

That pretty voice is what really does it; well, that along with the slick of come leaking onto Keith’s shirt from his own neglected dick, messing up both his stomach and his clothing. Lance wraps his hands around Keith’s dick, then, and starts pumping it fast and hard, timing it to his own thrusts, knowing he won’t last long and hoping he can maximize the chances that they’ll come at the same time. 

His efforts are not in vain; Keith makes a loud, hiccupping noise as warning, Lance pushes into Keith fully, up to the hilt, and releases, spilling inside of Keith and thrusting through his orgasm, moving Keith up and down on the bed as he comes as well, further ruining his clothes. 

When they’ve both rode out the orgasm, Lance collapses on top of Keith, ignoring the mess of dampness on both their chests. He snuggles in close. 

“Y’know, I think our normal dates would be fine if you dressed like this every time,” he says, giving Keith a sleepy, teasing smile. Keith groans and presses a hand into Lance’s face, mockingly pushing him away. 

“Shut up. I think our normal dates are fine regardless.” 

Lance pauses, takes a moment to consider. While the fancy restaurant and such had been a winning idea—and still  _ fun _ , don’t get him wrong—Lance is realizing all over again that, actually, he really  _ is  _ just happy to do whatever with Keith. That much was proven tonight; even when faced with the stereotypically “perfect” date, he had eyes for only Keith himself, not the context or atmosphere surrounding him. 

Keith. It’s all about Keith. It’s about Keith and  _ Lance _ , about  _ them,  _ about their relationship and how they choose to express it. 

Nice dates are nice, but Keith, in whatever form, is a hell of a lot nicer. 

“Yeah.” Lance cuddles even further into Keith, kissing his cheek and curling around him happily. “I’d say that too, I think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! [buy me a ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/renyoi) if u want :3
> 
> [follow my klance tumblr!](https://klancey.tumblr.com/)


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